


I Will Bring You Back

by StarkRogers135



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Torture, Bloody Tears, Caring John Winchester, Fatherly John Winchester, Fear, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kid!Dean Winchester, Kidnapped!Kid!Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers135/pseuds/StarkRogers135
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean was five when it happened. He he was taken right from his family. From Dad and Sammy. Dean thought he'd never see them ever again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Bring You Back

Dean was five when it happened. He he was taken right from his family. From Dad and Sammy. Dean thought he'd never see them ever again. When he came to again, blood was coming down his face, he was blindfolded and his arms were tied behind him, feeling cold since he was in a cold room. Dean wanted Dad so badly right now. He was so scared that he started crying, crying more when he heard footsteps. Dean was hurting and bleeding from everywhere possible. Dean heard a familiar "Dean-o?" and quickly thought of Dad, but after weeks of not hearing from him, he was scared of _everyone_ now. Even the reassuring sound of his voice. Dean whimpered and moved backwards until he pressed up against a chilly wall, his body in panic and pain.

"Deano, it's me, boy. Hold still." John slowly approached his son, afraid of making the wrong move. Still, after perfecting his own work so many times, he could do it right _sleepwalking_. This was still his son and it hurt him. It hurt him so badly that tears of a tough man rolled down his face as he scanned the room repeatedly. His boy, his soldier, was tied up and bloody and he was just out of it. A wound reopened on Dean and John lost it. He ran to him, embraced him, as the child continued on crying. Didn't he really believe his own father?

Dean whimpered in pain as Dad untied him and took the blindfold off, a mixture of blood and tears starting to fall more heavily out of his eyes as he clung to Dad, crying out of fear and agony.

"Shh, boy, it's okay. Shh..." John whispered frantically, crying silently himself. What kind of a world takes away a five-year old child? Monster or not. "Dean, I need you to stop crying, okay?" he said as he regained his mind. "Listen to me, boy. It's been tough, I know, but right now, I need both of us to focus on getting out of here, okay?" John remembered how he struggled on getting in and realized that going out wouldn't really be cutting through butter, either.

Dean hiccuped quietly, shaking in his father's arms as he gripped his shirt tighter. Dean didn't want to leave his dad's arms at all. Soldier or not, he was still a kid and bleeding. His captors did something horribly painful to his eyes and now they were bloodshot and he was crying tears and _blood_ and it freaked him out.

"Shh...it's okay." John repeated once more, terrified of what they possibly could have done to his little boy. Pure rage radiated from the parts of him that weren't touching his son. "Dean-o, my little Dean-o..." he didn't know what to say to a child at this moment, this situation. He couldn't carry him out no matter how much he wanted to ease his pain that was just about to get much worse by climbing that fence. He would do anything for Dean. "Dean, come on, just a little bit more. We have to run, boy. Just a bit longer. Can you try?" John just hoped the child understood

Dean sniffled rubbing the bloody tears on the sleeve of his shirt as he shakily nodded. He's climbed plenty of fences in his free time with Dad. Trees, too. Dean would let Dad go first in case Dean fell and he wasn't there.

He smiled a very tiny smile of pride. Oh, how this son of his reminded him of Mary at such odd times, he could not understand. But, as a true hunter, that was in the back of his head. Always thinking about the hunt and survival. He hugged Dean tightly one more time and helped him up. Just like he thought he would. Out of love and pity, and speed and strategy. He carried his son almost all the way to the fence, twenty feet up in the air, hard-wired. He prayed and prayed that the kid had a tiniest bit of strength left in him. He hated himself for making him do this. 

Dean grunted as he clutched the fence, his father waiting on the other side, as he struggled to climb despite the horrible pain ripping at his body. Dean was about to give up as he neared the top, bloody tears of pain looking in his eyes. He didn't stop, though when he heard his father, though.

"Come on, Dean-o. Don't you dare give up on me." he whispered, just loud enough for Dean to hear him. It killed him not to be capable of doing anything but encourage him at this point. It was hard knowing he was hurting, but he'd make up for it. Right now, their worries were much bigger than some injuries. "Come on, boy. Just a bit more. I will bring you home this time."

Dean gasped as he lost his footing, immediately hooking his arms across the top of the fence as he flailed his feet to get his footing back, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

"Oh, boy, not now. Dean! Dean! Listen to me, take deep breaths, Dean. Slowly, gently, raise your foot. Come on. Just like back home, son. Come on, boy. Dean." No person has ever seen horror on a father's face this specific. No person had ever had to go through this. No person ever knew the feeling of helplessness like he did. No person _ever_. And he was mad.

Dean whimpered in panic, fear, and pain as he listened to Dad's voice. None of this would have happened it Dean ran off. If he stayed, if they hadn't _fought_ , they'd still be at Uncle Bobby's right now. Dammit, Dean felt so stupid. Dean trembled at the feeling of the blood rolling down the side of his face, red tears falling again.

Only if he hadn't yelled at him. He was just a five year old, for God's sake! John wouldn't have to go through nearly losing him all over again, knowing nothing of him. He regretted it in the instant, but he couldn't take spoken words back and he hated himself so much for it. There was no torture like watching your own child struggle for his life at your own fault.

Dean tried to at least calm his frantic breathing, afraid that he might hyperventilate right then and there. That was something they truly did not was to happen. Dean pulled himself up, his arms shaking visibly as he did so, as he struggled to pull himself over the fence. If he fell, Dad would catch him.

John watched his son struggle to get to the other side, quietly chanting encouragements. Not so much for Dean as much as for himself. Praying he succeeds, he moved under the place Dean would land, hoping he wouldn't be damaged if John caught him if he fell. _Just let us get home safely. Please._ he prayed to the god he rarely believed in. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Finally, Dean got to the other side and didn't necessarily fall so gracefully into his father's arms with a quiet grunt. His body was trapped with shaking that it was hard for Dean to control at times.

Happy that Dean actually _survived_ , John, still aware of the shaking of his little hero's body, took off running at full speed, never slowing, never looking back. They were safe. And he will mend his little boy in a safe room, where there will be no fear. He will return the hope to Dean's mind. He will love him right, this time.


End file.
